Sleepwalking
by skymateria
Summary: Staying in a small, lonely inn overnight in a remote valley where demons and death are rife has terrifying consequences for Cain and Riff... Rated M for violence, disturbing stuff, possible language and yaoi in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1  Foreboding

_Every night I fall to sleep, where I spy corpses at my feet._

The moon was already halfway up the hazy winter sky when at last the little carriage reached its lonely destination. The white haired butler jumped elegantly down from his seat to open the door as Cain Hargreaves stepped out into the crisp night air. Already, a frost was forming underfoot as he alighted on the ground, and he regarded Riff with serious, aurulent eyes.

"Come, Riff... Inside..."

Riff nodded at the noble's words, and they moved silently towards the door of the inn. An old, respectable inn; The Final Cadence had sheltered many travellers roving through this remote vale over the years, and now it was a welcome place to stop from the night for both men, tired by a long, bitter day on the road.

A chill draught followed them inside, and Cain looked around suspiciously as the door groaned closed. Shadows blanketed the bar in darkness, and in the corners of the room were mantled with cobwebs, strung sullenly from rafter to rafter. He shivered. This wasn't the resting place he'd imagined at all.

But the most striking thing about the room was its total lack of people.

Riff regarded the room critically, his already serious face creasing into a deep, dissatisfied frown. "Oh..." he murmured, wandering further inside and wiping his fingertip across the dust on the counter, regarding the long line he'd left disdainfully. "...Where is everyone, I wonder?"

Cain shook his head, bemused, and slipped quietly after Riff. For some reason he couldn't quite place, he didn't want to be at all far away from his larger, more powerful butler for even a second more than was necessary.

"This is most odd..." Riff continued softly, gazing around, as if expecting the residents of the inn to suddenly materialise all around them. He looked to his master apologetically. "Begging your pardon, Master Cain... I assure you that this inn is supposed to be a fine place..."

Cain waved a hand dismissively. "No matter, Riff. We can still rest here, even if..." He tailed off, and both of them surveyed their surroundings again, almost nervously. The silence hung for several long moments, before Riff cut in awkwardly.

"But, milord... There's nobody here at all... Is it really ok to spend the night in such a place..?"

"I'm sure the absence of people is perfectly justifiable," Cain said intrepidly, removing his top hat and fiddling with the rim of it, in rather sharp contrast to his bold expression. "And there is nothing at all to stop us resting here, even if there is nobody around..."

Riff shifted uncomfortably. "But, milord-"

Cain tilted his head to the side, glancing at Riff through glowing eyes, his lips twisted in a small smirk. "What is it, Riff? Are you scared?" He leaned closer to his manservant, any malice in his tone suddenly disappearing. "Remember Riff, there's no such thing as monsters."

Riff paused, and narrowed his eyes determinedly. "No, milord, I'm not scared." Cain nodded approvingly, smiling. "That's good. It really is only logical that we stay, Riff... We couldn't continue all night, especially in this horrible cold... Now, perhaps we should proceed to a room..?"

Riff nodded, starting towards a flight of wooden stairs. "Whatever my lord wishes, of course..."

They ascended through the gloom in silence, footsteps seeming unnecessarily loud as they echoed down the stairwell. Small spiders scurried in and out of the tiny cracks and crevices marring the walls as they passed, and Cain shuddered, despite his earlier resoluteness. He gave an uneasy chuckle. "I suppose... It is kind of creepy..."

The upstairs hallway was, unsurprisingly, just as deserted as the common room, and just as dusty. Riff sighed, seeming troubled. "I really am sorry, Lord Cain, that we had to come here... It's not at all the pleasant inn I had heard about..."

Cain considered Riff kindly, walking slowly down the corridor towards the first of the rooms. "Please don't be distressed. I have no objections to staying here, none whatsoever. Please don't worry." He flashed Riff a captivating smile, and, ignoring his unconvinced expression, went to attempt to open the door of the first room.

To his surprise, it wasn't locked; the door yawned open with little more than a slight creak of protest, revealing a small, unimpressive room. But before he could take in any more of the details of the room, his nose was suddenly assailed by the horrific, nausea-inspiring stench of death flooding out of it. He backed away impulsively, fighting the instinct to retch, slamming the door shut with superfluous force.

"Master Cain! What's wrong?" Riff asked urgently, instantly right beside Cain, touching his forearm worriedly. "Is something the matter..?"

Cain coughed violently for a couple of moments, sagging slightly as the bout of sickness passed, looking dizzily, but incredulously, at his butler, one hand gripping Riff's arm anxiously. "Didn't you..? Didn't you smell it..?"

Riff's frown deepened, and he stared distractedly into the young earl's face. "Smell what? Does the room smell bad?"

Cain quivered, trying to take deep breaths, still clutching Riff. "Of death, Riff... That room stinks of decay!"

Riff looked genuinely alarmed, and glanced briefly towards the door, then let his gaze flicker back to Cain, still trembling from head to foot. "...Deep breaths, Lord Cain... Are you sure... You couldn't have been imagining it?"

Cain shook his head wildly, his eyes bright and frightened. "I wasn't imagining things!" he insisted, rather more loudly than he'd intended. "It smells like a charnel house..!"

Riff merely nodded, not wanting to upset the younger boy. "All right, milord... You don't have to sleep in there, so don't worry... Why don't we try another room..?"

Cain looked dubious, and moved reluctantly with Riff as he attempted to open the second door down the corridor. The door opened just as easily as the first had, and no disturbing reek of putrefying flesh greeted either of them. Slowly, Riff led his young master inside, and sat him down on one of the two beds. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way, and went over to the dresser to light a candle.

"There... Will this room be all right, milord?" he asked quietly, lighting the candle and closing the door. Coupled with the faint moonlight streaming in through the grimy little window, the candlelight flickering on the walls was much more eerie than it should've been. Cain attempted to ignore this, and nodded. "It'll be fine..." he mumbled, his eyes flicking around fearfully, as if expecting some kind of horrific entity to jump out from the shadows.

Riff smiled. "That's good... Would you like me to fetch your nightclothes, then, Master Cain?"

Cain shook his head firmly, slowly slipping his shoes off and placing them at the foot of his bed. "No thank you, Riff. I don't want to change clothes in this place..." Riff frowned slightly, but allowed Cain to continue. "It feels dirty, and I'd feel even more vulnerable if I were to take my clothes off..."

Riff regarded him pitifully, and sat down on the other bed with a little huff. "Milord... You said yourself, there's no such thing as monsters..."

Cain nodded. "Indeed there isn't, but..." He sighed, looking slightly embarrassed. "The events of the last few minutes have shaken me somewhat. Even if I can't explain why, I feel ill at ease."

Riff sighed, knowing nothing he said would be able to sway his stubborn charge. "Will you be all right alone, Master Cain? Should I go and find another room now that you're settled?"

Cain's head whipped up in instant, although his voice remained quiet and soft. "No. If you would... Stay in this room with me tonight, Riff..."

Riff nodded dutifully, removing his own shoes and his jacket, hanging it on the back of the door. "Of course, milord. That's fine..."

He yanked the sheets up and slipped under them, still fully clothed, and looked over at Cain, who tentatively followed suit. He smiled sympathetically at his young lord and laid his head on the pillow, giving a heavy sigh. "Try to sleep easy, my lord... I promise you, there's no reason for you to be afraid..."

Cain nodded uncertainly, wriggling a little further under the sheets, his molten eyes fixated on the candle. "I hope you're right..." he whispered, shivering a little as his pillow scratched at his pallid cheek. Riff nodded once more, then shut his eyes and fell silent, clearly hoping Cain might do the same.

Cain sighed, rolling onto his back and gazing up at the discoloured ceiling with edgy eyes. Soon enough, he heard the gentle snuffles signifying that Riff was unconscious now, and groaned under his breath, irritated with himself.

"Grow up," he whispered through gritted teeth, his fists clenching as he tried to make himself obey his own words. "You're only frightening yourself..."

The minutes dragged by, the silence only broken every once in a while by one of the horses outside, nickering softly to itself as they waited for dawn, and for their masters to return. Cain rolled back and forth, sheer exhaustion beginning to overpower him. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and eventually they closed; and his mind began to swirl...

_Cain stood, to his surprise, at the entrance of the inn again. It was daytime now, and the air buzzed with conversation, and as he looked around, he saw the people making the noise; many of them, sitting down at the bar and pulling on long drinks, laughing together. _

_Nervously, Cain walked a little further inside, regarding the scene with considerable confusion. Was he dreaming..? Or was it morning, and had everyone come back..? He severely hoped for the latter. _

_As he watched however, the merry situation began to change. One by one, the dwellers of the inn fell into a forbidding silence. For a moment, he didn't understand; but as the deathly calm continued, he heard something else quite apart from voices; a soft, haunting moaning, slowly growing louder and louder. As one, everyone's heads swivelled to the door, all expressions the fearful same. _

_The ghostly sounds continued for several more seconds, then ceased abruptly. Silence hung for a couple of tense moments, before being ferociously shattered as the door of the inn was suddenly torn from its hinges as a gigantic, bat-like shadow flung itself recklessly into the room. _

_Screams erupted from everyone as several more of the shadowy masses entered the room, emitting unearthly shrieks and wails. Cain watched in horror, unable to move an inch, as everyone else scrambled around pathetically for weapons or defence of some variety. _

_The huge beasts in the doorway remained still for several moments, watching what was surely their prey through their curious eyes, like rubies set into their skulls. Their shadowy bodies continued to billow ominously for a little while longer, until suddenly their leader gave a bone-jarring cry and lunged forwards. A great hole gaped open in its face, filled with knifelike fangs, and before anyone could react at all, the full force of its jaws came crashing down upon the barkeeper. He gave a terrible scream, twitching frenziedly as blood soaked his clothes, the creature shaking him about like a ragdoll. _

_He fell limp, and just as another chorus of terrified yells began to rise, the other monsters rushed forwards over the people, like a blanket of despair, engulfing them all in a ball of blackness. From within, there came sick snaps and ripping sounds, as the unfortunate, defenceless humans were shredded like paper. Some of the foul entities darted for the stairs, and shortly the same cries of agony echoed from upstairs as well. Still, Cain remained where he was, unable to flee, unable to intervene; no more than a spectator to the massacre. _

_Eventually, the shadows rose, and revulsion clenched Cain's stomach as he saw, much too clearly, the remains of what had been people just seconds ago. Disembodied limbs were spread all across the room, along with disembowelled torsos, oozing a thick crimson liquid. Blood spatters from the chaos had even marked the walls and ceiling, and broken shards of bone were scattered around in a horribly casual fashion._

_He watched in disgust and dismay as the bizarre things continued to move around slowly, much more calm now, swallowing all the debris they had created, erasing all traces of their presence. The room soon looked just the same as it had before, and, apparently content, the beasts quietly swept away, rustling softly as they exited. The door moaned shut behind them, and they were gone._

_Nausea bubbled up inside Cain, and he felt weakness crash over him as he suddenly felt the realisation dawning on him as to what it was he'd seen._

_The people of The Final Cadence hadn't just left. They'd been wiped out._

_And, alone on a bitter night, what chance would he and Riff stand, if they should choose to come back? If those manifestations of darkness itself grew a craving for the flesh of humans again... And if they smelled prey again, in the same place as before..._

_Their fate would be sealed._

He awoke with a cry to wake the dead.


	2. Chapter 2  Encounter

Riff's eyes flew open at the ear-splitting wail of his master, and instantaneously the young butler was on his feet, leaning over the writhing, yelping Cain with an expression of terrible anxiety.

"Milord! What's the matter?"

Cain moaned softly, trying to catch his breath, his eyes bugging out in ice cold panic as he fought to banish the nightmare images still burning in his retinas. Riff regarded him fearfully as he rocked slowly, trembling like a leaf, and lightly touched his face. "Master Cain! Please tell me what's wrong!"

Cain's glassy gaze finally shifted to Riff, and he rolled over onto one side and clutched at the sleeves of Riff's shirt urgently, his hand shaking furiously. "We've – got to l-leave, Riff – r-right now, we have to g-go-"

Riff frowned, seating himself on the very edge of Cain's bed and pulling his stiff body with difficulty into his arms. Cain struggled in his blankets, his face a sickly white. Riff hushed him softly, rubbing his thumb across Cain's clammy forehead gently. "Master Cain, what's the matter..?"

"They're coming!" Cain half shrieked, his eyes rolling slightly, shivering twitchily. Riff looked alarmed at the sheer horror in his young, usually sophisticated master's face, a little of the raven-haired boy's panic beginning to get to him.

"They're coming? What's 'they', milord? Was it a bad dream, Cain?"

Cain shook his head firmly, letting out little moans between words as he tried to suppress the tides of sick fear washing over him. "It – wasn't just a dream, Riff! It was – everyone -" He struggled, coughing slightly on his own hurried words. "Everyone – was murdered, Riff! D-demons-"

Riff's eyes grew wide, and he hurriedly pressed a finger to the younger boy's lips, hoping to calm him. "Demons..? Master Cain," He smiled gently, rocking the smaller body gently in his arms. "You were only dreaming, milord. Monsters aren't real, remember? You told me that yourself."

"I know!" Cain whined, yanking Riff's finger away from his face impatiently. "I know what I said, Riff! But I saw it – I saw – what happened, to everyone! D-demons came, and they killed – everyone! They're going to come b-back, Riff, they're going to take us too-!"

"Master Cain!" Riff said sharply. "You were only dreaming. Nothing is going to hurt you anymore, Cain; you've got nothing to be afraid of." His voice suddenly softened. "Please calm down... I swear to you, there's nothing for you to be frightened of."

Cain snarled softly, his golden eyes hardening in irritation, struggling out of Riff's arms and standing, a little unstably, in front of him, his breath heavy. "Listen to me, Riff! I'm not one to be fooled into believing in the supernatural and the occult... But I _know_, I can _tell_, that what I saw was no lie or bad dream! It was a warning, Riff! We've got to leave here before they come back, otherwise we're going to die just like everyone here did!"

He stood, quivering, willing himself to get through to Riff, to instil some desire to leave in him too.

Riff shook his head slowly. "Master Cain... I really don't believe demons could be the reason why this inn is deserted... But..." He looked at Cain with tender eyes. "I hate to see you so distressed. If it's really what you want, then we can of course leave."

Cain simply nodded, his breath still catching uncomfortably. Riff pulled a face. "But... It's so late now... It could be very dangerous to travel in the dark and the cold like this..."

"However dangerous it is, it's the only alternative, and we have got to take it!" Cain insisted, his voice rising, head throbbing. In his mind's eye, black shapes were already sweeping across the moors towards them, whispering softly like a breeze of death. "Whatever happens will be nothing compared to our fate if we stay in this accursed place!"

Riff maintained his thoroughly unconvinced expression, but was done trying to reason with his hysterical young master, reaching for his shoes. "Very well, milord. As my master, I suppose I must obey your every command... But please try to be calm..."

Cain ignored the request, still whining anxiously as he pulled on his own shoes, his eyes darting around the room. Riff half smiled as he finished tying his own laces, and moved to tie Cain's, his fingers moving quickly in well-practised motions. "Nearly ready now, Master Cain..."

He stood up again and took his jacket from where it hung on the back of the door, yanking it on and opening the door for his frightened young master. Cain darted edgily from the room, shifting impatiently from foot to foot, groaning softly in disquiet. "Come on, Riff..!"

Riff nodded automatically, slamming the door behind them, candle in hand, and ghosting down the corridor, Cain following closely in his wake, nervously checking every shadow for a demonic presence. His master's unease hung over him like a shroud, and Riff shivered himself as they reached the dark stairwell. A small amount of pressure suddenly appeared on his arm, and he looked around in shock to see Cain gripping him fearfully, his eyes panicked.

"...Master Cain, it's all right-"

"Don't say that, Riff." Cain's voice was only a whisper, but held all the authority that it always had done. He stared blankly ahead as they began to descend, the old wood groaning dissonantly beneath them. "Everything is not all right. I can tell that."

Riff fell silent, leading the stiff boy down the stairs slowly, watching his feet for him, a little worried he might trip in his trance-like state. The candle flickered in the darkness, teasingly wavering and rippling, threatening to be snuffed out at any moment.

The common room lay just as they had left it; dark, still, festooned with cobwebs and quiet as the grave. Cain winced as he surveyed the room again, his blind terror reappearing rapidly. His eyes flickered, at random, to a spot just above the counter; and his face drained of all colour as he noticed something he hadn't before.

Vague, but unmistakable on the wall, was a reddish-brown stain, abstractly shaped; and horrifically blatantly blood.

Cain stumbled backwards slightly, a frightened wail escaping his lips abruptly, colliding inelegantly with a chair but barely noticing. "It was real... It was real... My dream... It was... It was real..!"

Riff frowned, quickly moving to Cain's side and placing a hand on his forearm. "Milord! What is it?"

Cain's eyes remained fixated on the unsightly spectacle on the wall, and slowly Riff followed his gaze. His face, too, blanched. "Is that... Blood...?"

Cain's voice failed him; weakly, he nodded his head, his hand tightening on the edge of the table, digging into his palm. Having not seen the same horrors in his sleep as Cain had, the full shock had not yet fallen upon Riff. "I don't understand... First your dream, milord... And now this..?"

He shook his head slowly, his face gradually returning to its usual hue, turning to smile reassuringly at Cain. "Still... It's ridiculous to even consider the two being related, isn't it..? It was only a dream... And all that mark is..." He sighed softly. "It's just an unfavourable memory... No more, no less..."

Cain looked unconvinced, the sick feeling in his gut growing stronger and stronger the longer he looked at the bloody smear. Riff frowned slightly, trying to pull Cain gently towards the door. "Come on, milord, you're frightening yourself... You wanted to leave, didn't you?"

Cain nodded statically, finally tearing his eyes away from the disturbing sight and sighing shakily. "Yes, I'm – sorry, Riff..."

Riff shook his head. "Don't apologise, milord... It's quite all right... Now should we be -"

He cut off abruptly, his face growing slightly anxious. Cain felt it too; an odd, implacable aura suddenly seemed to settle over them, like a dark cloud, and straight away Cain knew to be afraid; something told him that now was the time to be more afraid than he'd ever been before. As they stood in anticipating silence, a soft, ethereal laughter slowly came within earshot, and both men's faces rifled through all shades of white before arriving at the palest of all.

"R-iff..." Cain croaked, barely daring to move, to make a sound. "It's...coming...something...is coming..."

Riff could only nod blankly, expression slightly quizzical, finally starting to believe in Cain's fear, automatically drawing closer to his smaller master, putting a hand on his shoulder, one hand slipping inside his jacket to fumble for the pistol within. "Milord..."

The soft, wraithlike sounds drew gradually closer, seeming to encircle them, and pathetically both men tried to follow the noises, neither daring to say a word.

Whatever was haunting them, it sounded quieter than Cain remembered from his dream; maybe it was something else, something less sinister, he tried to reason briefly.

Or maybe they were just fewer in number than last time.

A soft moan slipped from between his lips, and despite himself, Riff turned to try and reassure him. "Don't be scared, milord... I don't know what's outside, but I'm going to protect you..." He smiled gently, and his tone was so sincere, Cain just about found the faith to return the expression.

Then the peace was shattered, just as before, by the door being ripped off of its hinges, this time even more violently, landing on the counter with an ear-splitting crash. Cain turned, and saw another one of the lithe, black, malignant shapes that had claimed the travellers at this inn once before, and gave a heart-rending cry.

"_No!"_

Even Riff could hardly comprehend the terror in his voice as he drew his gun and fired at the alien creature, reacting before he could even tell what he was doing, the shots barely drowning out Cain's screams. They passed through the ghostly thing like gusts of air, falling to the floor with petty clinks.

"Monsters aren't real! Monsters _aren't real..!_"

The demonic beast gave a shriek of unearthly laughter, swaying forwards in a bizarrely hypnotic way, baring its sabre-like fangs. Riff pushed a hand firmly into Cain's chest, trying to push the smaller man behind him, backing away in panic, and it merely snarled; the air crackled with the very hatred of the creature, welling up from deep inside it.

Cain clutched at his skull as if in agony, his eyes flaming with unadulterated desolation, boring into the satanic being, still chanting desperately to himself. "Monsters aren't real..! Monsters... _aren't...real!_"

The beast's full attention suddenly seemed to fall fully upon the young earl; quite abruptly, it disregarded Riff completely, looking straight over his head to Cain, its eerie whispers fading to nothing, along with Cain's whimpers. They stared each other in the eye, gold into crimson, and instantaneously something snapped in Cain's already terrified mind, and he cried out like a dying man.

The black shadow began to tip forwards, its supple form curving over Riff's head, and Cain's eyes glowed with an inhuman light, his mouth opening as the demon forced itself inside him, its fluid body slowly disappearing into its apparent host.

"_My lord Cain!"_

Cain's body convulsed, his back arching as the last of the black shape rammed itself down his throat, choking and screaming in agony, his eyes bulging, lit up with insane terror. Riff grabbed the writhing man, trying to still him with his powerful arms. "My lord!"

Cain continued to twitch and cry for several more seconds, and then abruptly fell limp, like a puppet with strings cut, lying like a corpse in Riff's arms, lids finally closing over the burning irises. Riff carefully shifted, laying his master out on the floor on his back, trembling furiously; maybe he had trained in medicine, but this, of course, was far, far beyond him. "C-Cain...?"

The younger boy lay still like the dead, his face oddly peaceful in his evident unconsciousness, and Riff cocked his head, heart hammering, foreboding flooding through his chest like ice water. "Cain...?"

A moment, maybe two, passed, and then Cain sat bolt upright, giving an unearthly, spine-tingling cry, fists clenched, nails dug into his palm until blood seeped down his arms, his eyes wide and mad, scintillating with a nameless terror; the eyes of one possessed.

Before Riff could react, however, his master had fallen back into his arms, and lay still as a doll again.


	3. Chapter 3  Affliction

It felt to Cain as if Lucifer himself was burning the insides of his skull with the fires of Hell, and as this thought brushed his aching mind, so too did another, more positive thought; _this must mean I'm alive._

For the smallest instant, warm, beautiful relief flooded him; whatever it had been that had happened, he had lived through it.

Just about.

As consciousness continued to slowly seep back into him, he became aware of several things. Firstly, of a swirling, heavy blackness pressing inside his head, like a great, dead weight. Secondly, of a great sense of undefined hopelessness, as if a cloak of sorrow had been thrown over him, blocking out any sunny optimism that might perchance shine down. Thirdly, of the roaring, ceaseless cramps attacking his insides with as much mercy as a pack of starved wolves.

He decided shortly that he did not feel at all comfortable with his circumstances.

What had happened..? He tried, futilely, to remember. Something was clearly seriously amiss if he had woken in such pain and confusion with no idea of what had got him into such a state. And where was he now? He remained in silence for several moments, trying to determine what was going on without opening his eyes. Either his rocky state of mind was playing tricks on him, or he was moving, gently rocking from side to side. Blindly, he stretched out a hand, hoping to touch his surroundings and maybe have a clue.

Leather... Whatever it was he was lying on seemed to be leathery, and was certainly flat enough to be assumed as man-made. Above him he felt nothing, and also to one side of him; the other was leathery too.

Maybe he was in some sort of seat, he mused hazily, letting his arm fall to his side again, curling into a foetal position and listening, lest that give him some idea as to where he was.

He wasn't sure why he wouldn't open his eyes. But somewhere, deep in his subconscious, he knew – he just knew - that he mustn't.

There was some sort of rhythmic rattling going on, definitely... More distantly came a soft clinking, and a steady thumping of something, perhaps something moving along on a dirt track...

He listened more closely. No, whatever was thumping, there were two of them. His hearing was rather good today, so it seemed. He wondered absently if it even was day, or whether it was night; his total lack of knowledge as to his situation unnerved him. And yet, opening his eyes was so clearly not an option to him. He wouldn't. He _couldn't._

And then, after a few more lifeless moments, another sound joined the others, adding to the bizarre symphony of mystery sounds; only, to Cain, this new noise was certainly not a mystery, even in his glazed and vacant condition.

Riff?

He sounded scared. Why was he scared?

Through everything, Cain's anxiety broke through, and the teen's starshine eyes opened at last. He blinked spastically for a few moments; the light was minimal, but it still burnt after the solid blackness of behind his lids. He cursed himself silently; what had frightened him so much about seeing again? It was as if his own mind was trying to dissuade him from sensibility.

A quick glance around, and all his confusions were cleared up. He lay prostrate in the back seat of the carriage, curtains all drawn aside from the one directly in front. Riff sat, facing away from him in the driver's seat, muttering what seemed to be panicky nonsense to himself, periodically drawing the whip across the horses, clearly not really concentrating. His seemingly severe fear frightened Cain.

He hauled himself laboriously into a sitting position with the intent of speech with Riff, rather keen to know what had him so tense, but shortly realised all such plans were shot as a new spasm of harsh agony bolted abruptly through him, stealing his speech in an instant with the intensity of the sensation. He merely let out a soft choke of disquiet instead, his limbs twitching a little as he tried frantically to understand what exactly was hurting, and why. What in God's name was happening to him?

Well, everything was hurting. Every inch of the frail body felt like it was being ravaged by some odd spectral force, and every inch of him begged silently to be released. Every inch of him begged for Riff to come to his side and soothe him like he always did.

As for why he was hurting, he couldn't even begin to know. All he knew was, it had to stop soon. It had to.

But, by some miracle, the pitiful little cry managed to reach Riff's sharp ears, and he twisted around in his seat, yanking harshly on the reins as he did so, his face pale as the face of a corpse. His worried eyes grew large and fearful, and he urgently tugged again on the reins, slowing the horses to a complete stop before he hurled himself out of his seat, appearing almost instantaneously inside the carriage, hurriedly coming to Cain's side and cradling him loosely in his arms.

"M-Master C-Cain..! Are you all right?"

Cain's answer was nothing more than a quiet, wavering groan, quite enough to signify how much pain he was in. His head spun sickeningly, the curious blackness pulsating inside doing nothing to aid his wellbeing. Riff bit his lip, holding the smaller, feeble body gently to his own, as if he hoped that his arms alone could keep him safe from harm, nuzzling absentmindedly into his hair, fighting to keep his words steady.

"May God strike me down himself, milord... I can't even begin with my apologies, Lord Cain... I-" He broke off for a moment, his teeth grinding together, self-hatred burning brightly in his storm-cloud eyes. "I s-should never have doubted you, milord... I shouldn't have allowed us to stay in that godforsaken place..! P-please, milord... Bestow upon me whatever punishment you see fit, for I deserve to suffer for my ignorance."

Cain regarded him in silence, still unable to reply for a few more seconds, until suddenly the pain lessened slightly, with no warning or explanation; he took full advantage, however, and reached out to gently touch Riff's face.

"Riff... It wasn't you fault..." He paused abruptly, another ripple of unease washing over him. What wasn't Riff's fault..? The gaping holes in his memory seared. _What had happened?_

"Riff... What happened..?"

Riff's face was a mixture of agonized guilt and tenderness. "You don't remember..? Oh God... Cain, your dream... Your dream about demons... It was real, it happened, Cain..." He repressed a shudder, rubbing up and down Cain's arm absently, reassuring himself more than his master. "Turns out monsters are real after all. Some – thing, some ungodly creature, came and found us, Cain." Riff's face was truly despairing, and as he continued his voice sank to little more than a whisper with the weight of his misery. "Oh God C-Cain... I've never seen you so scared in all the time I've known you... Do you honestly not remember what happened next..? I would rather not recount it again, if that would be at all possible, milord..."

Cain's face was blank, his mind working so hard to try and recall. Riff's words seemed to have some echo of truth to them, but they were so absurd; surely such things were impossible, little more than fantasies to frighten children. Surely, monsters weren't real...

And then, as suddenly as an explosion lighting up a dead night sky, he remembered.

The memories returned like a rusted dagger through his very soul, icy cold and unforgiving, filling the blank schism in his mind with vivid pictures and sounds; gunshots and screams, black shadows and bloodstains.

His past.

He remembered everything. The freezing panic that had seized him in hands of ice and refused to let him go, while he gazed up into a creature surely composed of little more than ill-will and dark matter. He remembered the feeble bullets Riff had fired, he remembered the mocking sounds of them dropping to the floor, useless. He remembered it all and it hurt more than he could even comprehend.

"I remember."

The voice sounded weak and pathetic, and sounded to Cain completely disembodied; for just a moment, he wondered if he'd said it at all. Riff's face twisted, and he held Cain tightly, saying nothing at all. Cain simply lay quiet in his arms, reliving the moments in his mind, almost shying away from the final one; he knew exactly what it was, and he hardly wished to delve into it again.

But, trying so hard as he was to avoid it, it was of course just a matter of time before it flooded his mind again, rolling over him like a cold, ghastly fog.

Stunning, blinding, crushing agony.

He couldn't breathe. The plume of shadow choked him as it inched deeper and deeper inside him, and at every thrash of its sinuous, effervescent body, another spasm of murderous pain, both physical and mental, flared through him, until he knew not how to bear it.

His sight blurred and sharpened erratically, misting over with every colour of the spectrum, fading and brightening, the pressure pent up inside his skull feeling fit to burst it. Tides of sickening horror swamped him. It was like drowning, burning, being sliced apart, all at once. He could hardly hear his own screams for the relentless, deafening roaring in his ears.

Then it had all stopped; as if by divine intervention, all the unbearable torment had fallen away like an empty chrysalis, and now he was free. He was a butterfly. Everything was going to be beautiful now.

The darkness was cool and pleasant. It was a world apart from the black agony which had been writhing in his head only moments ago; this darkness was soothing, and it surrounded him like a soft cocoon. This darkness wasn't going to hurt him. He would like to stay here forever.

But all good things must end. The serenity of his little world shattered into myriad pieces just as quickly as it had formed, and the nameless terror was billowing over him again, more intense even than before, more concentrated and dizzying and frightening than he could ever have imagined.

And then, once again, it was gone. The blackness of unconsciousness had swallowed him whole, and the next time he awoke he had found himself to be in the carriage.

Cain shuddered violently, dragging himself back to the present with difficulty, not wishing to linger any more among those particular, uncomfortable thoughts. But one thing amongst the many troubling him still remained bright and clear in his mind, eating away at him gradually, weighing on his mind just as much as the dull, inexplicable blackness that still throbbed there slowly.

There was a demon inside him.

A day ago, had someone made such a claim to him, he would have dismissed them as many things; mislead, attention seeking, delusional; maybe all three. But there was no way in which science could explain this; it was simply cruel and cold fact that whatever had rammed itself ruthlessly into his body to use him as a host, was not of this earth.

He could not remain in this still, fearful silence any longer. Looking desperately for a way out of it, he gently touched Riff's cheek, hoping for his attention. His manservant looked up in instant, his worried, caring eyes rimmed slightly with red. Cain was taken aback; had he really been so deep in thought that he had failed to notice Riff weeping? The thought sent a rush of guilt through him.

"R-Riff... Where are we going?"

The boldness in Riff's eyes was a painful facade to see, and it flickered and wavered even as Cain stared into him, while the butler graced him with a weak smile which was so clearly, so terribly, a lie.

"Back to London, milord. I have to make sure you're safe again, Cain..." He relinquished his grip on Cain slowly, lowering him gently back into a horizontal position and beginning to inch gradually out of the carriage. Cain frowned, extending a hand towards his retreating manservant, wanting him to stay and comfort him. "H-hey..."

Riff's face was twisted wretchedly as he alighted again on the ground, one hand at the door, ready to close it. "Until then, milord... Please forgive me..."

Cain merely watched as the door shut, a strange kind of panic creeping up through him, trickling into his head and then solidifying like permafrost as he heard the lock slide across. He heard a sob from Riff as he clambered back into the driver's seat and whipped the horses on, and the sound tore at him like knives.

But, to his own surprise, the pity and the distress did not last. Riff had locked him in. Riff was scared of him. How dare a butler be scared of his master? How dare he take such actions? The rage rapidly grew, until soon it was a fireball of aggression beating against his ribs, his thoughts racing angrily. It was the worst ferocity he'd felt in such a long, long time; perhaps even in his whole life, and right at the back of his mind, it frightened him.

Because Cain Hargreaves didn't have enough people left to love in the world, and those he loved he wanted to love forever; he wanted them to stay in that special part of his heart until the day he was stolen to Hell. He didn't want to – wouldn't and couldn't drive them away. This new fury was wrong – it wasn't even him.

To his relief, and confusion, after a time of his panic, everything – feelings, senses, will – began to subside, and he felt another cool, gentle spell of darkness looming over him, ready to take him into its peaceful arms and ease the pounding in his head. Willingly, he let his eyes fall shut, and fell to an abyss once more, begging quietly that when he woke again, maybe some of this chaos would perhaps have been resolved.


End file.
